


don't stop making this happen

by pulses



Category: PRISTIN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10061915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulses/pseuds/pulses
Summary: Baking is an intricate process: one both mathematical and impassioned, inherently methodical but only perfected with a flexible amount of free spirit. It is, at heart, a balanced art, requiring the utmost patience, love and care.Theseare calculations she knows well and true.(Five times Minkyung makes Kyungwon food, and the one time Kyungwon returns the favor.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> please accept my nonsensical 2kyung (american, and imho consistently so, in case anyone is curious about name choices/etc.) university au! i’ve been sitting on this for far longer than i should have because of schoolwork… so… *releases it into the world w/o second thought* #noregrets
> 
> \- a

0.

When Minkyung decides to stay in the dorms her second year, she expects to divide her time between crying over the workload and babysitting ungrateful freshmen, most of whom refuse to respect her immeasurable wisdom and winning personality. So _maybe_ her strengths don’t lie in academic achievement, but she’s hot and self-aware—Minkyung knows that that can take you far in life. As far as she’s concerned, her acquaintances should consider themselves lucky to have been granted access to her unending fountain of good looks and good advice.

All in all, her predictions prove largely correct. If she’d thought her first year was rough, classes only get so, so much worse. Minkyung's new roommate also turns out to be a freshman: a tiny girl named Shannon Bae who spends an hour upon moving on putting up fairy lights and polaroid photos of her best best best high school friends. 

Don’t get her wrong; Minkyung loves the girl. Shannon is way too much of a sweetheart for her not to. (She lists her “main interests” as her family, her friends, God, singing acapella and watching guitar covers on YouTube. Minkyung isn’t that heartless.) But, god. They’re all _babies_. Minkyung nearly cries when she catches Shannon planning her trip on the first day of classes with meticulous use of Google Maps, a bursting desire clamoring in her gut to reassure her that in two weeks time, Shannon would not only know every building on campus but would also come to harbor pointed disdain for each one’s less-than-functional lecture desks and general lack of respect for personal space.

At some point in time, Minkyung had wanted to move into an apartment with a handful of her first year friends. They’d found a nice place and everything, a four-bedroom with low-ish rent nestled not way off at the edge of campus like some people will settle for, but Minkyung had been forced to cede hold of the idea at her parents’ disapproval.

It’s embarrassing, but she isn’t exactly known for being a functional person, and it _may_ be why she’s been sentenced to another year in this pest-infested hell.

(Personally, Minkyung is of the opinion that this is a rather unfair consequence of her character. Her proof: Mingyu is even more so the opposite of a functional person. Nevertheless, confirmed not-functional-person Mingyu now shares an apartment with his friends Minghao and Seokmin, and despite the three of them having their _own space_ —as they like to remind her, over and over again—they all find a little too much glee in trespassing onto her 10-by-12-foot property and making fun of her, as though her five favorite freshmen don’t already have the job covered.

Except for Yewon. Bless that girl.)

So, really: classwork is terrible as always, and her friends—both new and old—are the same terrors as always.

But what Minkyung absolutely could not have predicted is _Kyungwon Kang._

  


**A far from comprehensive profile of the one and only Kyungwon Kang, who is:**

1) A biology major (that means she cares about the environment, right? Plants! The coral reef! Climate change! A respectable major, Minkyung decides.)

2) A sophomore

3) Minkyung’s next-next-next-next-next door neighbor

4) Really hot

5) And… 

  


“The love of my life,” Minkyung decides. “I’ve found the love of my life.” She collapses backward with a heavy sigh. “Oh my _god_. Someone wake me.” 

“Please be quiet,” Eunwoo says. She, Shannon and Jieqiong are sitting on Shannon’s bed while Yebin occupies the chair. “Shannon is studying for her chem midterm.”

“Mmhm,” Shannon agrees, turning a page with whatever cheekiness her—what? 4-foot? body could possibly manage. She gets brattier whenever her friends are around, Minkyung thinks. Freshmen work in packs.

“Okay, well. Stop doing that, thank you,” Minkyung demands. “I need to tell you this story so that today can go down in history.” 

She taps at her mattress, giddy, waiting for the four girls to fall into expectant silence. “So I walked into the lounge, right?” Minkyung begins. Her hands are clasped tight, together. “And she was just—sitting there, _studying for bio_. Isn’t that so cool?”

Jieqiong squints at her, trying to gauge the sincerity in her tone. “Um,” she manages, as though she doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.

“Literally what else do people do in the lounge other than study?” Yebin finishes.

Shannon snickers. “I don’t think Minkyung has ever studied in the lounge so much as… well, _lounged_.”

“I think the name in itself answers the question,” Minkyung defends. “So anyway, she was studying, right? And okay, don’t laugh. But I got a little… distracted staring at her face because—literally, no one has any business looking that gorgeous in a communal area at midnight, you know what I mean? So I kind of walked into her table and dropped my phone.” She sensibly ignores Yebin’s interrupting snort and continues, undiscouraged. “But then she goes, ‘Oh, hey!’ and leans down and picks it up for me. And I go, ‘Hey! Oh my god, thank you so much. I’m Minkyung. Nice to meet you.’ And she says, ‘I’m Kyungwon, nice to meet you too!” and shakes my hand, which? In retrospect, I guess is _kind_ of weird. But it totally wasn’t at the time.”

“Right,” Yebin deadpans, clearly in disbelief. 

“Hush,” Minkyung grits out. “The moral here is that I, Minkyung Kim, totally succeeded in carrying a mostly-normal conversation with a hot girl. Named Kyungwon. Who is possibly the love of my life.”

“Wait wait wait,” Eunwoo says. “Hold up. You didn’t know Kyungwon before?”

“What? You guys know Kyungwon?”

“I mean… yeah.” Shannon shrugs. “She’s Eunwoo’s neighbor. We met her at the floor social.” 

Fuck. Minkyung hadn’t gone to that because it had felt a little like a personal slight against her dignity, to be forced to intermingle with the friendless hordes of lost freshmen. “So… what you’re saying is that you live next to someone as beautiful, intelligent, and—did I mention—beautiful as Kyungwon, and you never felt the need to introduce us?”

“Uh,” Eunwoo considers, “yep. That sounds about right.”

“Actually, Eunwoo, I distinctly remember you telling us to ‘never let Minkyung meet her,’ because she’d ‘definitely become even weirder than usual,’” Yebin adds, air quotes generously included.

Minkyung falls silent, processing this new information. She thinks of Kyungwon’s gorgeous smile and gorgeous eyes and gorgeous face; of the way her hair had appeared soft and well-kept in comparison to the pre-midterm, unwashed curtain Minkyung tries to call hair and mostly just hides under a beanie come fall. After their introduction Kyungwon had asked her about herself, patient and lilting, her smile open like spring blossoms. The white of her teeth had left Minkyung dazzled.

“I hate you all,” she decides.

 

 

1\. 

Minkyung is normal. She can be normal about things.

So when she and Kyungwon learn that they’re both enrolled in the same Economics course, and Kyungwon asks her— _her!_ Who barely scraped by with a C on the first midterm!—whether she’d like for them to study together, Minkyung definitely doesn’t decide to go the extra mile to impress her.

Except—

Maybe.

That’s exactly what she does.

“I’m going to bake her brownies,” Minkyung announces. “No, cookies. No, _macarons_. I’m a girl with class, ladies.”

“Who— _are_ you,” Yebin wonders aloud. “And what have you done with Minkyung.”

“What?” Minkyung huffs, hand gripping at her chest to demonstrate the full extent of her hurt. “I do nice things for people all the time!”

“I have literally never met anyone so reluctant to share their ramen,” Shannon goads. “I don’t think that’s positive roommate behavior, actually.”

“That’s—I—ramen is a basic necessity for human survival! Are you honestly saying I should impart with my _lifeline_ for the sake of our friendship?”

Jieqiong pouts from where she’s sitting with Eunwoo, their shoulders knocking together. “Minkyung is so mean. Isn’t she, Yewon?”

Yewon shrugs, a little helpless. “Actually,” she admits, “making macarons is a nice idea.”

At that, Minkyung throws a hand out in grateful gesture; catches Yewon smiling at her in sympathy. “I love you, Yewon,” she decides. Then she clasps her hands together, ready to make her point. “Listen, who here actually has a girlfriend?”

“Me?” Eunwoo responds. She puts an arm around Jieqiong, as if physically incapable of resisting the pull. When her fingers dig into Jieqiong’s side, light and enamored, Jieqiong offers her a soft look and rests her head on the slope of Eunwoo’s shoulder, the both of them lost in their own two-person world.

Minkyung makes a face. God, they are so married. It’s disgusting.

“No,” she says. “Well, yes. You too. But the answer was Yewon. _Yewon_ actually has a girlfriend. And who here is currently validating my romantic advances? Also Yewon.”

“Yewon is just too nice and sane to say no to you,” Yebin says with a wave of the hand. “Also, romantic advances? I thought you were studying for Econ.”

“Whatever!” Minkyung announces, standing suddenly. She points at her friends with newfound determination. “I’m sorry some people here can’t appreciate my artistry, but I’m getting the keys to the kitchen and no one— _no one_ —can stop me!”

*

Before college, Minkyung would have never guessed that walking into a dusty public kitchen could be so therapeutic.

It makes sense, though. Minkyung had loved cooking and baking at home, and although she doesn’t have nearly as much time to explore the passion at school she likes to dabble whenever possible. Even now, she believes that macarons remain a forever classic. It’s a fine art, but under the right hands they can come out light and excellent, firm but pliant and just the right touch of crumbly on the tongue. 

Baking is an intricate process: one both mathematical and impassioned, inherently methodical but only perfected with a flexible amount of free spirit. It is, at heart, a balanced art, requiring the utmost patience, love and care. _These_ are calculations she knows well and true. 

Sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back and steady hands sifting sugar; it’s the best way to work, and work Minkyung does. As she brings the ingredients in the bowl to an airy froth, slow-going but movements sure, the loving product of pinpoint experience, she smiles. Feels the same careful tenderness in the pit of her chest unwinding loud and clear.

The way to a woman’s heart will always be good food, she thinks.

Or at least—she _hopes_.

*

“Oh, _wow_.” Kyungwon exhales. “These are delicious.”

They’re sitting at her desk because Kyungwon actually has half a mind to keep it clear of snack wrappers and whatever bullshit Minkyung has piled up on her own desk. (“Desk” is generous. She mostly considers it another shelf on which to lose track of her overflowing belongings.) Minkyung had presented the macarons upon entering as an offering; an admission. _I’m sorry I’m useless at Econ, but please be my friend._ Underneath, _you’re sweet and hot and smart, and it’s really cool and also kind of overwhelming; I mean it._

“You can have the rest, if you want!” Minkyung assures her. They’d spent an hour quizzing each other on key terms until Kyungwon had leaned back and sighed, calling for a snack break. Now Minkyung observes, transfixed, as Kyungwon bites into the vanilla cream, teeth lingering as though each macaron holds the key to a secret not yet uttered, or a question too complex to have even materialized. Minkyung’s throat is working at what is probably a million miles an hour. Shit, the speed of light’s got nothing on this. “I… made too many.”

At that, Kyungwon’s eyes sparkle a little. The childish excitement that flashes by really shouldn’t be that cute, but Minkyung is _weak_ , so she swallows hard. “Really?” Kyungwon asks. “I have such a sweet tooth, but I can't cook or bake for shit.”

Oh, fuck.

 _This is going to be a thing, isn’t it?_ , Minkyung realizes. Kyungwon closes her eyes with another careful swallow, humming pleasant and low.

It’s. It’s definitely going to be a thing. 

The laughter ringing in the back of her head sounds distinctly like a chorus of five particularly insolent freshmen.

 

 

2.

It’s almost uncanny how easily Kyungwon slots herself into Minkyung’s life. Kyungwon will run into her at the dining hall and slip into casual conversation about classes, floor gossip and what have you, munching on rapidly-cooling dining hall slop and waving an arm about with an endearing amount of animation until one of them eventually has to leave for their next lecture. Will pop her head in to ask about an Econ problem, even though they both know Minkyung isn’t about to be the one to figure it out; will join in so naturally on Minkyung and the girls’ Friday night expeditions that Minkyung soon forgets there was a time Kyungwon wasn’t part of the group at all.

They’re in the dining hall again when Kyungwon brings it up. 

“Ahhh, I sure miss home sometimes,” she breathes. Her voice comes out wistful, nostalgic. “Well. I mostly miss home cooking.” With a drawn out sigh, she picks up a fry and stares at it, unimpressed. “Don’t you ever get tired of the dining hall’s only edible food being pizza and fries?” 

“Oh,” Minkyung says, considering. Then she realizes Kyungwon has asked her a question and rushes out a, “Yeah, for sure.”

She sits back as Kyungwon starts rattling on about her mother’s dishes. In all honesty, it makes Minkyung earn a little too, mostly for the dependency of Korean cuisine. She thinks of Korean vegetables—cut fresh from the pull of the earth, served as they are. Thinks of her mother’s steaming earthenware pots, of fresh meat and food that doesn’t go down tasting mass-produced, impersonal. 

Home cleanses. Home soothes. Home tastes like cold noodles and kimchi stew, tastes nothing like the grease-soaked fries in front of her, and Minkyung finds her next words already bursting at her throat.

“Hey. Do you maybe want to have dinner with me Friday night?”

Kyungwon brightens. “Like, out, or—?”

“Like, do you want to eat my cooking,” Minkyung clarifies. 

The positively _incandescent_ smile Kyungwon shines on her would have been enough, Minkyung thinks, just about blinded. But she isn’t exactly going to complain when Kyungwon says, “Oh my god, yes, please.”

Like Christmas had just about come early.

Minkyung thinks the same, as it were.

*

Their school has a lot of Korean-American students mostly because they live in a heavily Asian-American area. This doesn’t do as many wonders toward the quality of their dining hall food as Minkyung thinks it should, but it’s nice; definitely more familiar and accessible than some of the other colleges Minkyung had been considering her senior year, and it means they have several nearby Asian grocers to choose from.

On Friday, she leaves her last lecture of the week (her mind so keyed up that her notebook is made heavier only by a single ink trail of pathetically unintelligible notes and what _might_ , but it’s really anyone’s guess, be doodles) and walks toward her favorite grocer: a real homey place run by an old Korean lady and not one of the 99 chain stores.

It’s a quick process, picking out the ingredients. In her mind lays a map of all the dishes she has to make, floating around in all their vibrant form and color. She leaves the place feeling like the Earth’s axis has finally shifted back into place, the warm giddiness in her chest nearly enough to combat the pre-winter chill (nearly enough, but—not quite, she thinks, trying to suppress her shivering).

Minkyung stops on a corner to take out her phone and thumbs down her contacts list, eventually pressing call. A few rings later a groggy voice filters through. “Hello?”

“Did I wake you up?” Her voice is incredulous. “It’s 3pm, Mingyu.”

“Uh, and my only class is at 5, so—your point?”

“Okay, well,” Minkyung starts, rolling her eyes. “I’m coming over. I need to use your rice cooker. And your kitchen.”

There’s a shuffling noise on the other end: presumably Mingyu sitting up, or even actually getting out of bed. “Now?” he asks.

“Yeah, preferably. I have, uhhh. A girl to woo in four hours, so.”

“Oh my god,” Mingyu snorts. “ _Fine_. Knock yourself out.”

Minkyung is pushing a shoulder up to hold her phone in place so that she can tie a loose shoelace when she makes a noise in protest, frowning exaggeratedly at the tone of his voice. “Can I just—ask—why does no one want to support me in my endeavors? My love is nothing but unadulterated and pure!” 

“Wellll,” Mingyu draws out. There’s a light cadence to his voice as he says it, really makes a show of emphasizing the syllable, and Minkyung just _knows_ he’s going to say something irrelevant. “Maybe it’s because I want someone to stop making overt eyebrows every time me and Minghao are so much as in the same room, breathing in the same air? But I mean. Entirely hypothetically. It would be appreciated.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” Minkyung says. God, he’s dramatic. Is it her fault he can’t own up to his hopeless crush on Minghao? No, she didn’t think so. “I’ll stop doing it! Now please give me your blessing!” 

As much as she hates to admit it, Mingyu’s opinion carries a lot of weight to her. A majority of the time Mingyu is just a dumb puppy who means well, and he only snarks her because they’ve known each other for so long—in fact, ever since the tragedy they call high school. (Or, fine. The tragedy _Minkyung_ calls high school. Mingyu had been awkward as always, but high school girls will forever remain endeared by tall boys with awkward charm. It’s inexplicable, it really is.) 

So—whatever. He’s been her friend all these years and remains a comforting presence to turn toward. Sue her. 

She waits expectantly; hears Mingyu draw a deep breath, and settles in. 

“I, Mingyu Kim, hereby give you my full blessing in your desperate chase after Kyungwon Kang, the object of your affections. Even though you often make strides in the opposite direction, I am of the genuine belief that you are a good person with good intentions, and the three of us agree that your crush is very, very cute.”

Minkyung barks out a laugh. Secretly she’s pleased, and they both know it. “Thank you,” she tells him, for good measure. As they converse, she starts to cross the street near her dorm, in the direction of the path that leads to Mingyu’s apartment block. 

It’s then that she realizes something. Something terrible, truly _fail your midterm post-drop deadline_ terrible, and she makes a heavy face. 

“Wait. Wait a fucking minute. Who told you her _name_?”

Silence. 

Minkyung tucks this away for later, knowing the conversation far from over. 

“Well, keep it out of your filthy mouth, at least,” she demands. Then she finishes with, “Anyway, talk to you soon. My fingers are freezing, and I need them intact to prepare the _doenjang jjigae_ and _ddeokbokki_ ,” before hanging up right as Mingyu’s fading voice goes, “ _Oh_? You’re making _doenjang jjigae_? Can I have s—”.

*

Mingyu gets the test batch.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this caught up in someone,” he mentions, nibbling on a potato. “I should have figured that you were the type of person to fall hard, when you fall at all.”

Minkyung is packing the dishes into tupperware, carefully tipping the stew onto plastic. Her fingers still as they trail the rim. “It’s not—it’s just. Whatever. I’m not trying to be weird about it? I just like her.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, shrugging. He’s blowing on another spoonful of stew as he speaks. When he catches Minkyung nibbling nervously at her lip, he swallows and shoots her a wink. “Hey, it’s cute. One of us has got to take hold of our love lives, anyway.”

“Hah!” Minkyung shrieks victoriously. “So you admit it!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“You’re totally in love with Minghao! Holy shit, this is the best day of my life.”

“Oh my _god_ , Minkyung.”

*

At promptly 7pm, Kyungwon raps at the door with a pair of chopsticks in her other hand. Shannon is away at choir practice so it’s just the two of them for once, and Kyungwon settles down on their rug with unbridled delight.

“How do you just—know how to make all of this?” She asks, awed, taking in the dishes Minkyung has prepared. It’s not the most _romantic_ of settings, but Minkyung is a broke and irresponsible college student. It will have to do.

“I like cooking,” Minkyung says easily. She pushes a clean bowl toward Kyungwon and proffers a toothy smile. “Don’t be too impressed, okay, but I did the dishes for you.”

At that, Kyungwon lets out a gleeful cackle. It’s possibly Minkyung’s favorite sound, because Kyungwon _does_ know how to let loose when she wants to. The proof is invigorating. “Good. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Minkyung just shrugs in response, playful. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” Then she takes out her own chopsticks and starts to serve herself. “Anyway—uh, dig in?” 

Like always, they find themselves ebbing easily into a comfortable pattern, exchanging laughter and small talk in between bites of Minkyung’s cooking. Kyungwon’s bangs keep falling in her eyes as she hunches over, and the two of them eagerly shovel spoonfuls of white rice while they sit on Minkyung and Shannon’s dusty cream rug. 

Minkyung may have forgotten to vacuum, whatever.

It’s still the best meal she’s had in a long, long time.

“How is it?” Minkyung ventures, careful to keep the nervousness out of her voice. Kyungwon looks up at her and flashes an enthusiastic thumbs up, grinning.

“Just like home,” she affirms.

Minkyung wonders if it’s too much to think that that’s what Kyungwon is like, sometimes, for her.

 

 

3\. 

November eases in without notice, on the heels of a quiet turn of the month.

“Did you know that Kyungwon’s birthday is this Saturday?” Shannon asks, casual. 

Minkyung is fiddling around on her phone, refreshing her Facebook feed out of sheer boredom for what might be the twentieth time that day, when the comment registers.

Birthdays. _Birthdays_ are a thing. 

“Shit,” Minkyung spits, immediately sitting up. “Shit, shit. Who told you this?”

“Um, Facebook?” Shannon says, with a tone of voice that implies Minkyung is a baby boomer who doesn’t know how to turn on a laptop and blames the fall of _American Society As We Know It!_ on corporate technology.

Minkyung freezes in her scrolling. Kyungwon is friends with her, of course she is, but Minkyung has never actually stalked her profile before. Isn’t that the first step in having a crush? Minkyung has failed even at being plainly pathetic, somehow. 

She thumbs over to the search bar. Types in the first few letters of Kyungwon’s name, and—tabs over to her “About,” and— _oh_.

There it is.

“What the _fuck._ Kyungwon is turning 19 in five days.”

“I mean, it’s not 20,” Shannon says. “Or 21,” she amends, tipping back what is likely meant to be an imaginary shot glass. “But, yeah. Not bad.”

Minkyung squints at her. “Please never do that again. You’re literally 14 years old.”

“I’ve totally had alcohol before!” Shannon defends. “One ti—”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Minkyung cuts in. Now is not the moment for Shannon’s epic tale about, you know, that time her parents let her take a tasteful sip of some 1999 Château Lagrange on her thirteenth birthday. Or—whatever the fuck wealthy Southern Californians like to get up to. “Kyungwon’s birthday! Birthdays! Parties.” She focuses. Birthdays aren’t exactly her forté.

“Are you okay?” Shannon questions, actually earnest.

“Birthdays, Shannon,” Minkyung says. “Oh, fuck. Fucking _cake_.”

Cake, thankfully, is exactly up her alley.

*

The whole thing turns out pretty fun. Rather sweet, even, if Minkyung gets to say that. The six of them go buy banners and ice cream from CVS; turn off the lounge lights and crouch down with streamers ready in different corners. They make Eunwoo text Kyungwon to meet her there, some benign homework request for a class Kyungwon had taken before as façade, all the while armed and ready.

Standard surprise party stuff.

“Did you make this?” Kyungwon asks, pointing at the cake and beaming a little. She’s just finished yelping at the streamers, and Minkyung thinks that the fact she’d found it cute means she’s in way too deep. Now there are little lines of tears dotting Kyungwon’s waterline; Eunwoo and Jieqiong are wrapped around her in a big, tight bear hug, having moved with scary swiftness upon taking notice of her teariness. 

Minkyung shrugs. She watches Kyungwon tap at their backs as they coo and squeeze the life out of her, smiling pleasantly while simultaneously losing breath. “The girls helped. Sometimes they aren’t so useless, you know?”

“I resent that,” Yebin says. She makes her way over, shooing Eunwoo and Jieqiong away before pulling Kyungwon toward the cake. “Happy 19, Kyungwon,” she announces, pausing for the girls’ inevitable echo. “Now make a wish.”

Kyungwon settles down and closes her eyes. A serene hush falls over them, and Minkyung zeroes in on the way the muscles in her face relax. The silence feels, then, like the music of home; of comfort. Whistling its way in and around them, cradling them, stretching into even the most inconceivably minute crevices that have cracked cold throughout their lives. Their lives that, at the core of it, constitute fabric, are a threaded tale being interwoven in time with careful care to their hearts and the ways they drop them, the ways they will always pick them up again and hold them out to the next person in line. 

Hoping for them to be the one.

Kyungwon’s eyes open. The seven of them scoop ice cream to pile onto the slices of cake, and Kyungwon starts making the same appreciative noises as all those times before. 

“It’s lovely,” she sighs. “Is this red velvet? Because I love red velvet.”

Everyone in the world loves red velvet, Minkyung thinks. But it emboldens her anyway: the knowledge that _of course_ Kyungwon does. That Kyungwon could find something Minkyung had made her lovely. 

“Yes,” she says. “It is.” The fingers on her right hand work nervously, even as they grip the plastic fork. It’s like an anchor: tethering her down to earth.

“Happy birthday,” she tries.

“Wouldn’t be without you,” is what Kyungwon shoots back. 

 

 

4\. 

Kyungwon and Minkyung start studying for their Econ final together in December. They’re reviewing, as always, in Kyungwon’s room, when Kyungwon taps the end of her mechanical pencil on her lower lip and asks, “Hey. You know the Korean Cultural Club?”

“Yeah?” Minkyung responds, unsure. “I have some friends in it.”

“Oh! Well, I’m in it too, and I was wondering…” she bites her lip, “you know. Totally up to you! But we’re having an end-of-semester bake sale, and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to help us out?” 

Minkyung hums and straightens up. “What do you guys need help with?”

“Okay, so this one guy, Seokmin—ah, wait.” She pauses, eyebrows forming together contemplatively. “Do you know Seokmin? I’m pretty sure he’s mentioned you before.”

Minkyung hadn’t really thought popularity in college was a thing, but if anyone were to then she figures Seokmin—attractive, involved, intelligent, kind, and/or whatever the fuck a college student need be—honestly fits the bill. Normally Minkyung would be surprised to learn that Kyungwon is acquaintances with one of her closest sophomore friends, since they’ve never hung out together or anything.

Only it’s _Seokmin_ , so it makes sense. 

(It’s actually rather scary that he’s such good friends and voluntary roommates with the two laziest people in existence, herself admittedly excluded, because on a good day Mingyu can still barely wake up before 10 and by then Seokmin will have already attended a total of probably four whole club meetings.)

“Oh _man_ ,” Minkyung snorts, “do I know Seokmin.”

Kyungwon smiles, an understanding glint in her eye. “Yeah, okay, so. He wants us to sell boba because he says it’s the most ‘economically stable’ option or whatever, right? But I told him that would completely contradict the purpose of our club! And that if anything, we could sell, like, Korean sweets or streetside snacks instead.” It’s cute how passionate Kyungwon can get, desperate to drive the point home. Minkyung giggles, “uh huh”-ing at the right moments, and watches in fascination as Kyungwon suddenly falters. “Only. I, uh. Don’t know how to make them.”

“I know how to make _hotteok_?” Minkyung offers. “And—other stuff. I can find recipes.”

“Really?” Kyungwon asks, eyes light.

It shouldn’t even be a question, Minkyung thinks. She likes baking and she likes Kyungwon, and maybe that’s all there is to it. 

Minkyung has got this.

*

“Don’t let her use you for food!” Shannon warns later, wagging a finger disapprovingly.

Minkyung makes a face. “Why on earth would anyone do that?” she demands, only a little strained. “No one uses people for food.” 

“It’s college,” Jieqiong shrugs. “I’ve heard of stranger things.”

Minkyung is busying her lip, expression concentrated, when Yewon interjects, “Maybe you could ask her to cook with you?” The corners of her mouth lift into her signature pleasant eye smile. “That way you’re not doing everything for her, but you also get to spend time with her?”

“Yewon, Yewon,” Minkyung says. She clasps her hands together, immediately brightening. “Yewonnnieee. Have I mentioned that I love you?” 

“Just because her girlfriend is still in high school doesn’t mean you have a free pass to flirt with Yewon,” Yebin reprimands.

“What!” 

“Should we warn Siyeon?” Eunwoo adds.

“You’re all the worst,” Minkyung decides.

*

“You have a _bungeoppang mold_? Where do you even get this stuff?”

Minkyung laughs at Kyungwon’s dumbfounded expression. They’re in the dorm kitchen again, sorting through some of Minkyung’s kitchen utensils. “Kyungwon. Have you ever cooked a single day in your life?” she asks, promptly setting off into another round of giggles when Kyungwon splutters indignantly.

“I’ve made rice before! Multiple times, actually!”

“Cute,” Minkyung lets slip. Her eyes widen when she realizes what she’s said, and she has to physically resist the urge to slap a hand over her mouth, because, _too obvious_. She hopes that Kyungwon takes it as a compliment between friends.

Kyungwon smirks at her. “Damn right I am,” she announces, lingering on smug.

“Shut up,” Minkyung says with a roll of her eyes. “Also, most of this stuff is my mom’s. We used to bake a lot together.”

“Really?” Kyungwon asks. “My mom and I did other things together, but I don’t think I was ever that attracted to cooking.”

Minkyung nods. “I’m an only child, and when I was younger my dad’s job would always run late. So after school I would help my mom prepare dinner and we’d wait for my dad together, and it was just like, this one thing that brought us together. I guess I like—you know. Making things, helping other people out. My mom never understood why I liked doing house chores so much.”

“You’re in Education, aren’t you?” Kyungwon asks, eyes crinkling. “That sounds about right, then.”

“Yeah, I—” Minkyung pulls out a measuring cup and shrugs. “I was never the best student, but I like learning, and I like knowing how other people learn. I’ve always thought that, like, if I had had a teacher in middle school who knew personally what it feels like to struggle with learning, then maybe I could have been taught a little better. Not everyone is naturally a genius, you know? It’s not just about accommodating them.”

“Yeah,” Kyungwon agrees. “I like that a lot.” She smiles, soft, and bumps her hip into Minkyung’s. “Hey. You’ve got a good heart, Minky,” she intones, cheerfully drawing out the nickname. 

“Quiet, you,” Minkyung mutters, only the attempt at nonchalance is definitely interrupted by the shy smile playing on her mouth and also probably the pink dusting her cheeks. She reaches over to the kitchen rack and hands Kyungwon a piece of worn white cloth. “Put on your apron! We have goods to bake.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kyungwon replies, and it feels good. 

Easy, even.

*

When Minkyung joins Kyungwon for her shift, she finds Seokmin and Kyungwon talking to each other. It’s the final hour of the bake sale, and Seokmin is gathering his things while Kyungwon takes his previous spot in one of the plastic chairs.

“You were right,” he’s saying. “I guess we didn’t need to sell boba to make profit.”

“Yeah, because that’s like the Taiwanese Club selling kimchi!” Kyungwon counters, laughing. She raises her head as she hears someone approaching and smiles, wide and bright, when she sees that it’s Minkyung. “Oh, Minkyung! You came!”

Seokmin makes a very interesting noise. “So, Minkyung,” he says, appraising the situation. Minkyung gives him the Warning Eyes, which he smoothly ignores. “Fancy seeing you here, huh?”

“Yeah,” she grits out. “I just… love. Clubs. So much.”

What Kyungwon really _doesn’t_ need to know is that for all that Seokmin and their senior friends Joshua and Nayoung—the ones in charge of the organization, actually—have asked her to participate in some of their events, Minkyung has held steadfast to her idle nature and attended a grand total of probably two.

It’s just. School’s busy, you know?

“Hey,” Seokmin starts, “remember that time we were hosting a Lunar New Year celebration and you—”

“Kyungwon!” she calls out, slapping a hand onto Seokmin’s mouth. It’s probably a funny picture, since Kyungwon’s eyes crinkle. “Is it our shift now? I guess we’ll be saying goodbye to Seokmin, then.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Kyungwon, you know,” Seokmin announces conspiratorially once she moves her hand away, clearly to stir up shit.

There’s something about the mischievousness in his expression that brings her back a month or two, and her eyes widen with realization.

“You—! You! You’re the one—” she smiles at Kyungwon apologetically and jerks Seokmin to the side, whispering furiously into his ear. “So _you’re_ the one who told Mingyu and Minghao about her.”

Seokmin shrugs, unashamed. “It’s cute, you know. She can never shut up about you, and I figured that, well, if a beautiful girl was willing to socialize with you then you must also be desperately in love with her!” Then he leans in even closer, adds, “Oh, and I'm also in choir with Shannon.” He winks meaningfully. "We have a lot of downtime. We talk. If you know what I’m getting at it."

Freshmen cannot be trusted.

Seriously.

It doesn’t even matter though, because Minkyung is mostly caught up on the first part of Seokmin’s confession.

“I—she—Kyungwon can never shut up about me?” she asks, eyes wide, flushing red at the immediate sight of Seokmin’s broadening smile.

It’s horrible.

“The three of us are cheering you on,” he announces, winking again. He shrugs his messenger bag over his shoulder and starts pacing back. “See you, Minkyung! Bye, Kyungwon!” 

“Yeah, bye,” Minkyung breathes, a little numb.

It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s just an hour with some food and the love of her life. 

Nothing she hasn’t done before.

When she returns to Kyungwon, she finds her making her way through one of the pancakes. The rush is kind of dying at this point, so she isn’t too surprised to witness the freeloading. 

Only, Minkyung doesn’t exactly expect Kyungwon to rip off a piece of the pancake and put it up to _her mouth_. 

“Say ‘ahh,’” Kyungwon jokes, moving the piece around in jagged circles. 

A little put-off, Minkyung can only mock-glare at her, unconsciously bringing her fingers to still Kyungwon’s arm so that the piece remains steady in front of her. 

Then the pancake is already hot in her mouth before what she’s done registers, face instantly heating at the realization.

Kyungwon laughs good naturedly. “Hey,” she says, eyes tracing the tip of Minkyung’s tongue when it licks at some of the syrupy sugar stuck to the corner of her mouth. “I’m really glad you signed up for this with me.”

It’s sincere. Somehow sweeter than the filling of the _hotteok_ in Minkyung’s mouth, the sugar still clinging to her tongue.

And, oh, is she _fucked_.

 

 

5\. 

In the end, Minkyung’s “confession" couples itself with the most appropriate day of the year.

Their dorm building always hosts little events for special holidays, and Valentine’s Day turns out to be no different. Minkyung and Shannon end up running a cookie-decorating booth together (although really, it’s just two tables pushed together in one of the main lounges); Shannon bulk buys frosting and sprinkles while Minkyung is placed in charge of baking sheet upon sheet of heart-shaped sugar cookies.

“Hey,” Kyungwon says, pacing toward where Minkyung is standing a little off to the side, miserably watching people populate the tables. “Just wanted to drop by. I finished setting up the karaoke.”

“Hey yourself,” Minkyung parrots, and motions toward the stack of plates and cookies next to her. “Care for a sugar cookie?” She asks. She’s stuck here for another hour; she might as well make Kyungwon stay for as long as Minkyung can have her.

Kyungwon hums. “Yeah, why not,” she concedes, reaching for one. Shannon makes subtle eyebrows at Minkyung while Kyungwon occupies herself with layering on pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles, the freshman girl undeterred even at the sight of Minkyung shaking her head in warning.

Her head-shaking is interrupted by Kyungwon entering the periphery of her vision again, upper teeth nibbling on her lip ( _adorably_ , Minkyung’s brain appends in regular useless fashion).

“Uh,” Kyungwon begins. “I actually kind of just ate, so if you wanna…?” She asks, breaking her cookie in two and handing over a piece. 

Minkyung’s first thought is that Kyungwon is _sharing her heart_ with her. Then, because she’s not literally five years old, she stamps down on the thought and curls a hesitant hand around the edges of the cookie—so as to avoid getting frosting on her fingers—and holds it in until Kyungwon bids her adieu and the girls show up to pester her.

“She gave me half of her _heart_ ,” Minkyung recounts dramatically, waving the still-intact piece of cookie around.

“Oh god,” Yebin mutters. “Did you literally keep this with you the whole time? Make it stop.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t just trying to break it?” Jieqiong asks, laughing uproariously when Minkyung pouts at her. Only then her eyes soften and she nudges Minkyung more amiably. “I’m kidding. I think she likes you, Minkyung.”

Shannon, the sole witness, nods matter-of-factly. “It was pretty cute,” she acknowledges. Minkyung’s heart nearly swells to double the size.

Off to the side, Yewon is looking into the distance with wistful eyes. “It sounds romantic,” she sighs. 

“It is,” Eunwoo says, slow. “Very romantic, I mean.” She and Jieqiong share a look. 

Minkyung doesn’t even want to know.

*

“Should we help them?”

“Well, I don’t think they’re going to get anywhere by themselves. They can’t even flirt like normal people.”

“Exactly. They’ve been skirting around this for months. Which is _decades_ in college. It’s for the best.”

More mumbling. Then, “All right, someone give me the pink frosting. _Hurry_ , she’ll be done peeing any minute now.” Steady hands squeeze out colored sugar with easy confidence. “Okay, okay. Yebin, go slip this under Kyungwon’s door. And be careful with the napkin.”

“Right—”

“Hurry!” 

“I got it, jeez!”

*

“Where did Yebin go?” Minkyung asks a few minutes later. “I swear I just saw h—”

“”Sup guys, did you miss me?” Yebin asks.

“What the fuck,” Minkyung says.

Eunwoo pats her on the back. “You don’t even want to know,” she sighs, in a way that says, _What can you do about it?_

And, well—nothing, Minkyung decides. She wants to do absolutely nothing with any of this.

*

The girls disperse soon after, and Minkyung takes the opportunity to finally crumple onto her bed. She’s alone for once because upon reaching their room Shannon had immediately straightened and squeaked, “I’m going to go hang out with Yewon!”, hurriedly retracing her steps without further ado. It had been weird, to say the least, but Minkyung isn’t going to complain about some peace and quiet.

It’s only when Kyungwon’s erratic knocking sounds timidly on her door that Minkyung thinks maybe she should have been more concerned about whatever the girls had been acting shifty about all night.

“Oh, hi,” Minkyung greets. Kyungwon looks a little flushed, hesitant. “What’s up?”

“Did you make this?’ Kyungwon opens with, handing Minkyung a haphazardly frosted cookie. For some reason the writing is tragically smudged—“Someone slipped it under my door,” Kyungwon clarifies, and Minkyung, for all she wishes she couldn't, “ahh”-s in understanding—but it’s still legible, anyhow.

Meaning, Minkyung can easily make out the _“Date me? - MKK.”_ written on it in offensive white lettering.

“What,” she splutters, brain stilling for a solid moment. Or two. Or twelve. “I’m going to kill those—”

“I mean, It’s not that I’d be opposed,” Kyungwon cuts in.

“—those little—I—wait. _What_?”

Kyungwon’s tongue pokes out nervously. She's fiddling with her hands, probably replaying the words over and over again in her mind. Minkyung takes this opportunity to put the fucking _cookie_ away, and she returns to mirror a more steady-faced Kyungwon, new resolve fixed in her brows. “Well, this is probably not the best situation to be telling you this, but, uh. I like you. I didn’t think that this,” she gestures at Minkyung's desk, where the offending object lies, “was you, but I just. I started thinking about it for a while, and I—I don’t know what other opportunity I would have to tell you how I feel. So, yeah.” She glances down to where the toe of her shoe is scuffing at the carpet. “I like you a lot, actually.”

For the second time this night, Minkyung’s thoughts fizzle out. It’s not every day that _the_ Kyungwon Kang confesses to you, and the beating of her heart turns practically painful—a vigorous _thump thump thump_ rushing to her head, crackling with an intensity nearly fiery enough to send her reeling. 

There are things that are just that easy in life, and maybe this can be one of them: Kyungwon really likes her. She really likes Kyungwon.

It works like that, sometimes.

Minkyung’s hand reaches toward Kyungwon’s face. They beam at each other, the tension wondrous.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, leaning forward in question. Only to Minkyung’s utmost intrigue she catches Kyungwon shy away, stance almost apprehensive.

“I’ve—ah,” Kyungwon stutters. “I don’t know how.”

Which.

“You’ve never been kissed before?” Minkyung questions. She definitely does a shitty job of hiding her incredulity. 

“I grew up in a small white town where my only friends were straight Korean girls in my church group!” Kyungwon cries, cupping at her cheeks indignantly. “This is in no way my fault.”

“Yeah, but—” Minkyung bites her lip. “What about like, parties your first year and stuff?” What goes unsaid is: you’re hot. How are you saying that no one has ever tried to tap that?

Kyungwon blushes a little, and she leans over to bury her face below Minkyung’s neck. “Fine, okay,” she mumbles. “I guess I’m a little bit of a hopeless romantic. I’ve always wanted my first to be—like, you know. Something special? I know it’s not a big deal, but that’s just how I’ve always conceptualized it. And you don’t find special at some gross frat party.”

God, Minkyung thinks, is she _cute._

“Huh," Minkyung breathes. She tilts her head, taking in the details of Kyungwon's face, and:

"I could show you?” she finds herself offering. She leans back to cup Kyungwon’s cheek in one hand again, and Kyungwon stills for only a split second, running herself through the idea. 

Then her smile unfurls, serene and confident. 

Minkyung watches as Kyungwon nuzzles her cheek deeper into Minkyung’s touch, exhaling, “Please do.” 

It’s comfortable and steady, the way Kyungwon always succeeds in making her feel. Emboldened, Minkyung starts rubbing at the smooth skin of Kyungwon’s cheek with her thumb. She traces comforting, circular patterns, watching in satisfaction as Kyungwon’s eyes flutter contently, clearly pleased with the attention. And—

Kyungwon’s lips part.

Minkyung leans in.

 

 

+1

“I hate spring,” Minkyung sniffles from beneath her blanket fort. “I have allergies and it rains too much and my sinuses hurt and my _head_ hurts and my everything hurts and we’re all going to die.”

“Poor thing,” Shannon coos from the safety of her own bed, refusing to be near Minkyung’s contagion. Thankfully Kyungwon has slightly less qualms about her personal space, because the third girl is currently settling onto her bed in order to fuss over Minkyung’s sickly state. Minkyung always sleeps with excess pillows, so Kyungwon fluffs them up behind her and gently helps Minkyung push herself up, allowing her head to nestle more comfortably against the wall. 

“You should eat,” Kyungwon says, letting out a tut-tut of sympathy. “Get some strength.”

Something warm and steaming is placed into her hands. Predictably, Minkyung looks down to find a bowl of instant ramen (is that artifical shrimp flavoring she smells?), and even through her flu-induced haze she can muster enough strength to raise an incredulous eyebrow.

“This is all I can make,” Kyungwon explains, pouting. “But my ramen is really good! Yebin says so!”

“Mmmm,” Minkyung croons, inhaling the fumes through her one unblocked nostril; she loves ramen, so who is she to judge? She frees a hand to nudge in Kyungwon’s general direction. “It’s okay. I love you anyway.” 

Shannon snorts. Minkyung’s eyes snap wide open in horror, brain finally registering that her mouth is making sounds and what, exactly, those sounds distinctly _mean_. “Oh my god. Have I not said this before? I’m in love with you.”

Kyungwon just laughs, holding Minkyung’s outstretched fingers in between hers. “I’m in love with you, too, you dork.”

“Then—we should date,” Minkyung mumbles with authority. She’s a little drowsy from a healthy dose of medicine, so what.

“We are dating, babe,” Kyungwon says. Minkyung can hear the smile in her voice, honey-sweet and welcome. “Eat some of this, okay?” 

It’s probably not the healthiest sick food to have, but Minkyung complies, readying her chopsticks to dig in.

Later, she isn’t quite sure if it had been because she hadn’t eaten in what felt like decades, or because it will always, always be Kyungwon, or because she had been sick and Minkyung tends to get a little wistful about life when her body is in shutdown mode, but—when she takes her first bite the flavoring bursts into her mouth like a stolen bit of happiness, a sharp stamp of nostalgia and the blanketing warmth of comfort. 

The taste reminds her distinctly of old after school walks—scarfing down shrimp chips and Calpico under steady blue skies, letting the sugary sweetness of refreshing strawberry wash at the chips’ flavorful crackle. 

It might be far from the most culinary refined of tastes, but it’s one that means something, at least. The feeling carries her through a majority of the bowl, energy dipping slowly with every bite. In front of her, Kyungwon’s hand is still rubbing at the skin of Minkyung’s unoccupied hand, and it drifts her along further, a piece of solace in this weary daze.

“Stay with me?” she croaks, and relaxes at the affirmatory squeeze she gets in response.

*

Sometime later, someone gently pries the bowl out of her hands to set aside. Shannon and Kyungwon are whispering nearby, and soon Minkyung feels a new hand stroking at her hair. The fingers thread through with gentle, expert care, a tranquil thing.

“There there,” Shannon hums, and it only comes out a little brattily. Minkyung loves her, anyhow.

She falls asleep with a satisfied smile, thinking of healthier tomorrows.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic happened entirely b/c it’s canon that minky likes to cook + it’s canon that minky likes kyungwon’s ramen, yay


End file.
